


Silent Nights

by shotgunsinlace



Series: The Almanac [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Hannibal, Christmas, Crossdressing, Dirty Talk, Fluff, Lingerie, M/M, Mirror Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessiveness, Top Will Graham
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 03:37:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5524001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shotgunsinlace/pseuds/shotgunsinlace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal insists on dressing Will up and showing him off at the Christmas Eve charity ball, but a finely dressed Will and a scantily clad Hannibal is a lot better suited for the privacy of their bedroom.</p><p>A follow-up to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/5097554/chapters/11724764">Mischief Nights</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silent Nights

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally meant to be a multi-chaptered fic with plenty of plot, but time got away from me and life was a thing that happened. Instead, have a fluffy and super short continuation! It can definitely be read as a standalone piece as well. Also unbeta'd.

Red, white, and gold candles are strategically placed on the bedside tables and on the mantelpiece in Hannibal’s bedroom. The lamps are off, and Will brings the fireplace to life, bathing the festive colors in a warm shade of orange and yellow.

He turns down the bed. Pillows are fluffed, sheets smoothed, and the small, velvet box filled with chocolates is neatly arranged beside the discreet bottle of lubricant.

Will listens for any sign of him, but the house is quiet. The lights down the hallway are off, keeping any visitors at bay. Not that they’re expecting anyone. Most of their acquaintances think them at the Christmas Eve charity ball, which did they attend, but slipped out not an hour later. For all of Hannibal’s insistence to dress Will up and show him off, he hadn’t been able to keep his hands away for long. 

Will agreed to attend out of spite, deciding that if people really did want to talk shit about him, then he’d give them something to talk about. 

News about Hannibal’s and Alana’s breakup had spread fast, and faster yet had been the gossip about Hannibal Lecter settling in with a younger man. The term ‘boy toy’ was, and still is, a favorite among the elite. Those less preoccupied about their decorum have shamelessly called him a sugar baby.

Together, they hit the party. Dressed to the tens, Will borrowed some of Hannibal’s ease and social grace, shaking hands and declining drinks. The possessiveness they equally demonstrated went noticed by just about everyone, including a handful of gentleman that pushed way too far into Will’s personal space. Modesty aside, he and Hannibal looked pretty damn fine.

They danced to surprisingly upbeat jazz, and conversed lightly over frivolous topics. A couple accidentally interrupts them when they slip into the coatroom to make out, presumably to do the same, and Hannibal graciously grants them the space.

A thirty minute drive back to Chandler Square and two glasses of wine later, Will fidgets before of the mirror in front of Hannibal’s bed. He’s still dressed, midnight blue tuxedo intact, right down to his cap-toe oxfords. He fixes his bow tie, rubs his palms over the neatly trimmed beard, and he feels silly about being this nervous.

It’s been almost two months since they began having sex. Less than a month since they started showing up in public together. The BAU already knew, and outside of that, Will couldn’t care less about strangers giving them the side-eye while at dinner.

Still, their relationship is tumultuous at best. Something lingers just out of Will’s reach, something he can’t possibly hope to ready himself for, but whatever it is, he’ll take it as it comes. The scalpels have been removed from the bedroom, but he isn’t kidding himself into thinking that Hannibal doesn’t have a knife somewhere within reach. Will keeps one in his back pocket, and he knows that Hannibal knows. More than once has he made a show of pressing up against Will to feel it.

But tonight is different.

Tonight, they exchanged gifts before heading out. No gags this time.

Hannibal declared his to be the first of three other gifts. A pair of diamond and sapphire-encrusted cufflinks by Cartier, no doubt worth more than Will could possibly imagine.

Will’s present, in his opinion, paled in comparison. Still, Hannibal’s eyes had widened and gleamed brighter than the gems on his wrists when he peeled back the paper, eyelashes wet. He said nothing but a gentle thank you, kissing Will’s mouth and returning the black box to his bedroom before taking off.

Now, Will waits.

A light knock on the door is all that announces Hannibal’s arrival. He wears nothing but his silk robe and a pair of slippers Will finds humorously endearing. His hair is loose over his forehead, the wrinkles beside his eyes charming enough to makes him smile.

“How does it fit?” Will asks, hands nervously tugging at his jacket.

Hannibal considers the question for a brief moment. “Comfortable enough for the occasion.”

“I can get it changed,” he says, already shaking his head and ready to call it off. “I’ll get you something different. Useful. This is a line I shouldn’t have crossed.”

“Will,” Hannibal interrupts him with a soft touch to his elbow, thin lips curved into a barely-there smile. “Please don’t apologize. That you thought of gifting me the opportunity to wear this, for you, is more than I ever could have asked for.”

“I don’t want you to wear this for me.” He averts his eyes when Hannibal leans in to press the tip of his nose to Will’s cheek. “I want to see you wear it for yourself.”

Hannibal hums his understanding, standing closer as his mouth traces Will’s cheekbone. He nibbles on his ear, blowing hotly against the shell of it before whispering. “The lace feels exquisite against my skin.”

“Are you hard?”

“Yes.”

Will huffs out a breath, worry quickly turning into gut-twisting arousal. “Do you ever wear those under your suits?”

“That is hardly appropriate.”

Hands find their way to Hannibal’s ass, gripping tight and pitching his hips forward for a slow, hot grind. “The truth, Hannibal,” he says, coyly worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. “Did you, or did you not, wear lacy panties under your pristine three piece suits during our appointments?”

Hannibal’s eyes narrow, shooting a thrill down Will’s spine. “No.” He returns the groping, long fingers hooking under the swell of Will’s cheeks and squeezing. “Before your lovely gift, I only ever owned silk underwear.”

“ _Panties_ ,” Will amends. “That doesn’t exactly answer my question.”

Sharp teeth graze his ear. “Only the finest, when the mood struck.”

The revelation had been a mistake, as far as mistakes go where Hannibal is involved. Will had been rummaging for a spare shirt after a particularly rough day, and instead he stumbled upon a drawer of impeccably organized lingerie in a wide variety of colors. He had thought nothing of it, accepting that every person had their _thing_. In Hannibal’s case, it’s the blandest aspect of him Will can name.

That doesn’t mean that Will’s fantasies of Hannibal in lingerie are bland. For someone who has never given it much thought, Will is particularly taken with the contrast of soft fabric against the hard muscle of Hannibal’s thighs and back.

Stepping away, Will loosens his bow tie. “Take off the robe.”

Exuding nothing but pride, Hannibal unties the sash, letting both ends hang from his shoulders.

Not a single thing about Hannibal is particularly feminine. He is pure muscle with a soft middle, a product of his sedentary lifestyle. His shoulders are broad, back wide and unmistakably masculine. He’s physical, and Will knows the strength and power behind those thick forearms and biceps.

Even still, the emerald green camisole that reaches just past his navel creates the illusion of supple curves. The panties, small to begin with, hide nothing from Will. The ridge of Hannibal’s dick is enticing. Its slick head peeks out well past the frilly edge, almost cute.

The robe falls to Hannibal’s feet as he makes a slow turn, allowing Will a complete view of him. The panties are tight enough to hug and lift his ass.

Will palms himself through his pants, wondering if the gift really is for Hannibal rather than him.

“How do you feel?”

Hannibal touches his fingers to the bottom edge of the camisole, a mixture of studious and reverence. “Desired,” he says, wetting his lips. “Far more aroused than I had anticipated.”

Will laughs at that. “You honestly wear those for comfort?”

“The material is far more breathable, and softer. I regret to inform you that the appeal leans further towards aesthetics rather than anything sexual.”

“So, you match your underwear with your pocket square.”

Hannibal’s eyes soften with amusement, before looking pointedly towards the bed. “Shall we?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, climbing onto the mattress with alarming grace, given what he’s wearing. Lace stretches tight over his skin, camisole loose enough to flutter with every move Hannibal makes. He settles against the pillows, firelight making him glow.

Will wonders if there’s anything Hannibal would look bad in, but figures that would be a cosmic impossibility.

If only the Baltimore elite could see him now.

“Help yourself to the chocolates,” Will tells him, gesturing towards the fancy box he purchased last week. “Those have to last until I’m done with you.”

Hannibal nearly grins. “Feeling playful, Will?”

“More grateful than playful,” he says, kicking off his shoes and nothing else. “Go on.”

A square of chocolate is plucked from the box, the foil neatly pried open then perfectly folded and set aside. Hannibal places it on his tongue without question, the gesture sultry as he closes his mouth around it.

Satisfied, Will climbs onto the bed. He nudges Hannibal’s legs apart and kneels between them.

Hands rest on Hannibal’s thighs, fingers digging into corded muscle before pushing upward. The skin beneath his palms is warm and soft, quivering under the touch. Will skims over the panties and under the camisole, through thick curls, and over pebbled nipples. He stops only to pinch them, roll them under his thumb.

Will leans forward to kiss him, licking along the seam of Hannibal’s lips until he’s allowed entrance. Once done, he swiftly steals the chocolate from where it melts over Hannibal’s tongue, and into his mouth.

“What else will you steal from me?” Hannibal says, his words surprisingly shaky.

Will eats the chocolate and kisses him again, licking up the bitter remnants and drinking the pleased murmur that births in Hannibal’s throat. “Stealing suggests a lack of ownership,” Will sighs against Hannibal’s swollen lips. “You are, irrefutably, mine.”

“A bold declaration.”

Will tilts his head in acquiescence. “What made tonight bearable was having you on my arm for all to see. The esteemed Dr. Lecter, every inch as flawless, expecting to be fawned over.” Looking down, he slips his hands from out the camisole to walk his fingers up the hard cock trapped in lace. It earns him a hitched breath, but nothing else. “Wanted, lusted after.”

“Untouchable, because I belong to you.”

“All of them incensed once those two ladies returned with the news of what we almost did in the coatroom, of how ready I was to suck your cock right there and then. Grates their nerves that you came home with _me_ , that one of us was going to get fucked by the other tonight.”

“Crude.”

“Merciful,” Will says around a grin. “Let them dream of something beautiful, for once.” Hannibal angles his hips for a firmer touch, but Will doesn’t allow it. “Chocolate, and pass me the lubricant.”

The glass vial is thin and long, with only the silhouette of a horse’s head printed below the black cap. It sits heavy in Will’s hand, unopened, and he waits until Hannibal has unwrapped the chocolate to pour a liberal amount of lube directly onto his cock.

Hannibal begins to protest, but Will silences him with a touch to his stomach. “I’ll get you another pair, okay? One you can wear outside the house.”

He works the lubricant until it soaks through the fine fabric, wetting the thick curls at Hannibal’s groin. Will watches his face as he applies pressure, carefully massages until a fat drop of precome beads at the slit.

Enraptured by the sight, he misses Hannibal sitting straighter and reaching down, cupping his own hand against the ruined line of Will’s pants.

They kiss hot and heavy, what remains of the second piece of chocolate swapped back and forth. Their hands press hard against each other’s erections, involuntarily thrusting into palms and devouring every sweet noise that escapes.

“Can I fuck you?” Will sucks Hannibal’s bottom lip into his mouth, tugging briefly and letting it go.

“Yes,” Hannibal says, appraising Will with eyes gone dark. “You can.”

It’s a facet of their sex life they haven’t yet explored, too uncertain still with each other’s body. The occasional finger finds its way in, rubbing away at Will’s prostate until he’s singing under Hannibal’s touch, and vice versa. What lies between them is new, mostly shy and curious, but passion has insistently seeped in through the cracks.

Hannibal prefers to take, while Will enjoys pushing invisible boundaries. Waters continue to be tested, and they swim like sharks scenting blood.

Removing his jacket and carelessly tossing it aside, Will crawls off the bed. “Come here.” The wine from earlier has lit a pleasant buzz, making him brave.

They move to the foot of the bed, with the mirror above the mantelpiece angled enough to give Will an excruciating view of Hannibal standing close by, wet and flushed and achingly hard. He haphazardly rips the lace along the crease of Hannibal’s ass for easy access.

“No gentleness here,” Hannibal quips, but the sway of his hips counters the dryness of his tone.

“You don’t mind me being rough.” Will’s finger traces the swell of his cheeks, pushing far enough to feel the clenched muscle. The sensation is strange, though not unpleasant. “In fact, I know you like it.”

Hannibal holds onto his camisole, refusing to touch himself as Will begins the slow process of fingering him open.

With plenty of lubricant coating his middle finger, Will watches Hannibal’s reflection, enthralled by the way he pushes back, taking it deeper. His body goes with Will’s hand, giving chase when he pulls away, only to gasp when the finger sharply pushes inside.

Will fucks him nice and slow, hurriedly undoing his fly to fist his cock.

The fact that Hannibal remains hard is a given. Kiss swollen lips are parted, soundless. His eyes closed, head tipped back, and Will gives the base of his dick a squeeze to keep from coming. It’s a good look on Hannibal, flushed and ravished with pleasure.

One finger becomes two, then three, and then Hannibal is asking him to remove them altogether. Perhaps irresponsibly, he declines Will’s offer of condoms.

More lube, ignoring the expensive pants he wears, and Will is holding open the hole he’s made on the panties while Hannibal blindly seats himself on his cock. Will holds him then, a clean hand bracing against his flank until he’s settled, sinking inch by inch until he’s filled to the brim.

“It’s easy to forget how well endowed you are,” Hannibal says around a wavering sigh, his muscles tensing and easing as his body acclimatizes itself to the intrusion.

It takes a colossal amount of willpower to not just fuck up into the profanely glorious heat that is Hannibal’s ass. “Christ,” Will murmurs against his shoulder blade, biting into it and earning a beautiful moan from the man on his lap. “You’re so fucking tight, Hannibal.”

He bounces, and Will forgets himself, sticky hands clinging to shifting sides and panting into the soft, emerald fabric. His thighs quiver, fire licking at his gut and he _really wants to fuck Hannibal into the mattress_. Will regrets the position, deciding he should have gone with good old missionary for their first. At least that way he could forget about keeping balance and focus on what really matters.

“And you feel exquisite.” The praise goes straight to Will’s dick. “You look stunning, half out of your tuxedo.”

Will sucks a bruise at the juncture of Hannibal’s neck and shoulder, rolling his hips in hopes of getting deeper. “Not as stunning as you,” he says against his ear, letting his hands wander up and down Hannibal’s thighs. “You look very pretty like this. In delicate underwear. Riding my dick.”

Although confessed in the heat of the moment, it’s far from being a lie. Hannibal does look beautiful while debauched, ripped away from the person he wears for others. No armor, no countless layers of clothes here. Just simple, human want. Base and animal.

Hannibal spreads his legs for balance, both on the outside of Will’s own, and flings an arm behind Will’s back. The position twists him into an angle that’s awkward and undoubtedly uncomfortable, but a brief look to the mirror shows his intention.

Will leans back, shifts his hips enough to hitch Hannibal higher, and it gives him a much better view of where their bodies meet. He pauses to pour more lubricant, facilitating the slick slide.

“May I,” Hannibal starts, but whatever he means to ask is lost to a low grunt that sounds deliciously filthy coming from him.

“God, yes, don’t hold back. Fuck, let me hear how much you like to take it.” The way his cock twitches in his tiny panties urges Will to rut harder. “ _Hannibal_.”

“I intended to make a joke,” he says, shamelessly working himself back against Will. “About whether or not I’m allowed to ask what you will leave under our tree tomorrow morning.”

Will manages to laugh around a groan, somehow, at the absurdity of it. “That’s very inappropriate.”

“Also inaccurate, when I’m the one who will be drinking the milk.”

Nails dig into skin, Will fucking him in earnest as he watches the way Hannibal opens up to him, physically, this time, to accept every bit he’s given. It’s lewd how his body changes to allow Will entry, how he stretches and accommodates as if Will simply _belongs_ there. “No drinking. I’m gonna shoot it right into you.”

Hannibal moans a note that’s low and sweet, sprawling over Will’s lap, letting him do as he pleases.

Fire and exertion make sweat bead along Will’s neck, the tuxedo now in the way of the contact he craves. He wants skin on skin, Hannibal moving against him in a slow grind until they both reach completion.

Will cards a hand through feather soft hair, using his hold to tilt Hannibal’s face towards him. Nose to nose, they pant each other’s name against wet mouths, eyes holding as Will reaches down to touch Hannibal’s neglected cock.

“I’m going to make you come,” Will whispers, pushing further down to fondle his balls through the lace. Hannibal arches into the touch, eyelids drooping before opening again. “We both are. Then, we’re going to nap. And then, _fuck,_ then we’re going to do this again. Properly.”

Hannibal doesn’t speak, hazily watching Will as they move together. The lines of his face have eased, making him look impossibly younger in the firelight. Will wonders when any of this will end, if ever. He doesn’t want to cut Hannibal out of him, preferring to keep him close, _his_ , until they both stop breathing.

Will’s fingers bring Hannibal to orgasm first, come ruining the panties all the more, but the sounds that escape him as his cock is milked makes it all worth it. All it takes is Will’s whispered name to bring him over the edge in turn.

***

Christmas morning arrives near noon, with curved bodies tucked together, and loose limbs wrapped around each other.

Will wakes to a marathon of kisses being pressed along his nude body, worshipful hands caressing each dip and slope.

The room is warm, Hannibal more so, buried under thick blankets and supported by ridiculously plump pillows. More a private fortress than a bed, Will wraps his arms around his middle and pulls him on top. Although bigger and undoubtedly heavier, Hannibal’s weight feels wonderful over him.

“Merry Christmas,” Will murmurs, kissing him senseless, ignoring the fact that he already tastes of fresh mint. He vaguely remembers the chocolates that went mostly unused.

Hannibal, for some godawful reason, digs his thumbs into Will’s armpits. It tickles, and Will has half a mind to kick his ass off the bed. Hannibal relents, but without doubt storing that piece of knowledge for later.

“One of today’s gifts requires the spoiling of a beautiful boy before the big reveal,” Hannibal says, pressing a kiss to Will’s top lip. “I hope you’re not against staying in bed all day.”

Will’s cheeks warm at the endearment, toes curling. “Actually, I have no intention of doing otherwise.” He pulls the blankets well over their heads, hiding them from the large bedroom. Cradling Hannibal’s cheeks, he drags him in for a languid kiss. “Maybe we can fuck under the tree later on. After lunch.”

Hannibal hums his agreement. “Of course.”

“A massage is also in order,” Will says, opening his legs to better accommodate the man above him. “You must be sore after last night.”

“I am.” Hannibal shifts, pointedly pushing their half-hard cocks together. “But I rather enjoy the sensation, considering the cause of it.”

“If you’re nice, I might let you return the favor.”

“And if I’m naughty?”

Will reaches down to fondle the back of Hannibal’s thighs, teasingly letting his hands crawl upward and find their way to his entrance. His hole is still stretched, the remnants of come and lube still slicking the muscle. “You’ll have to work for it.” Will slips a finger inside, making Hannibal involuntarily thrust against him.

He’s curious about what the big gift is, but Will is content to laze around for the time being.

They grind against each other at a leisurely pace, no hurry to get off or to do much of anything. Instead, they kiss, touch, and drink every tiny sound that slips out unbidden.

Let the world continue to turn outside of the walls, for there is no room for devious plans or violence within the safety of their pillows.

**Author's Note:**

> Curious about Will's gift? I'm giving you one guess, and all will be revealed in the New Year's piece.
> 
> Happy Holidays, ya' filthy animals. ♥


End file.
